


The Intervention of Sherlock Holmes

by vipulasharma



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes (BBC Radio)
Genre: Angst, Awesome Irene Adler, Awesome Molly Hooper, Awesome Mrs. Hudson, BAMF Irene Adler, BAMF Mary Morstan, BDSM, Bisexual John Watson, Bisexual Sherlock Holmes, Dom Irene Adler, Drama & Romance, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, M/M, Married Mary Morstan/John Watson, Minor Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Pining Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Sexual Sherlock, Sherlock Being a Drama Queen, Sherlock Being a Snob, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock is a Brat, Sherlock-centric, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Virgin Sherlock, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-03 12:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipulasharma/pseuds/vipulasharma
Summary: Sherlock was hurt. Hurt? Huh! What a bunch of lies! Sherlock Holmes never gets hurt, or that's what he thinks. Too bad for him his friends don't think the same and neither does the woman who broke his heart.It is my first ever attempt at fanfiction. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.P.S: The story has major Adlock shipping.





	1. Episode 1

Episode 1

 

Sherlock knew he was doing it wrong. His hands were shaking and his lips were trembling. Maybe, it was too much, maybe the technique was wrong but he didn’t care. Not now. Not when she was not here. Who the hell does she think she is? Sherlock thought.

These days this was all he could think about. That woman. And to think the great Sherlock Holmes almost fell into her trap. Huh! This was Sherlock’s last thought before he was consumed by the dark.

  
‘Wake up. For god’s sakes, wake up.’

John? This sounded like John’s voice, but wait, how is John here? Wait. Where am I? Sherlock cracked his right eye open, not that he was conscious of which eye to open, but this is what he did, unconsciously of course. He saw John, his dear friend looking down at him. He didn’t seem too happy. Just notice how his lips are a thin line, and how hard his face is. He is quite handsome, and he knows it too. Well! Everyone should know their strengths. Sherlock kept on thinking this while slowly opening his left eye, this time conscious of his friend’s anger.

‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’, John yelled.

‘Oh! For heaven sakes, John do shut up. Can’t you see I am sleeping?’, Sherlock replied.

 ‘Sleeping? Huh! Sleeping? Do you even know where you were last night?’, John was getting angrier by the moment. This man, I thought he was sad but he is too far gone now. I have to alert Mycroft. John thought.  

‘Where?’ Sherlock questioned while trying to get up from what felt like a very strange bed. Oh, look! Silk. Wait, silk? It was like Sherlock got an electric shock, he sprang out the bed and looked around. Really looked around and realized that he had gone too far this time. Looking over at his now little confused but still very angry friend, Sherlock asked, ‘How did you find me?’

‘Well, you were constantly messaging me. So it was quite easy actually.’

‘How? What did I write? Never mind I will look myself. Let’s get out of here. I will puke if we are to stay even one more minute at this place.’

‘Well, then you better get ready to puke a lot because we are not leaving till I find some answers.’ John replied.

‘Answers to what?’, Sherlock asked irritated. But before Sherlock could pouch John into leaving John left the room. Sherlock followed behind like a lost, confused and now irritated puppy.

Reaching the living room, he saw Mary. And before he could say anything Mary said, ‘Yes, even I am here Sherlock.’ And this time Sherlock noticed she did not smile. And sitting beside Mary he saw Molly. Molly? And this time Sherlock exclaimed, ‘Oh god! Even Molly Cooper is here. What is this? Some kind of intervention?’

‘If you were not so miserable Sherlock, I would kill you myself.’ Seethed John. But something struck to Sherlock. Miserable? Sherlock Holmes was many things but he was not miserable. Never miserable. Because being miserable meant you cared too much which according to Sherlock was the biggest sin. Okay, now he really needed to know what he did last night.

Sherlock waited for them start. Just by looking at their faces he understood that he must have done something really beyond him this time. Well, had he murdered someone? That is very improbable. Sherlock does not kill, yes he enjoys planning murders but actually killing people, no that is not it. If not murder then what? Okay, considering he was sitting in her living room, he must..

‘Okay Sherlock, why were you in Irene Adler’s house, in her bedroom?’, John interrupted Sherlock’s thoughts. Irene Adler. The woman. The only woman who could beat Sherlock Holmes. It felt so different hearing her name out loud after so many months.

‘I don’t know. Must be a case. Seriously, it is not something we should discuss. It is not something serious. I think we should move past this.’, Sherlock replied hastily. Ready to stop this conversation and go home.

‘No. Nobody is moving till we figure out exactly what is wrong with you.’ This time it was Mary who spoke so determinedly.

‘It is not a big deal. I have done far worse things in the past for cases. This is something unusual.’

‘Not unusual? Not unusual. DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU TEXTED ME LAST NIGHT?’, John was yelling at the top of his lungs.  This got Sherlock’s attention. Yes, what had he texted him last night? Sherlock mused. He was about to look for his phone when John started reading his texts.

‘I don’t think I can ever forget how she looked that night. John is something wrong with me.  - SH’

‘I am thinking of her constantly. It is so disgusting. I am getting disgusted by myself. John, what if she was right? Please respond. - SH’

‘Oh! Don’t read them out loud. You are ruining it.’ Sherlock whined. But this didn’t stop John. then he played a video where Sherlock saw himself laying on Irene’s bed and inhaling the silk and muttering how he thinks she was right. This was enough. As if it couldn’t get any more embarrassing. Now, even Molly Hooper knew his feelings toward the woman.

‘Wish to see more? Still, think it not a big deal?’, John challenged.

Sherlock did not want to see any more of this. So he decided it was time he actually shut up and listened to his friends and Molly Hooper, who was almost teary-eyed. Oh god, woman! Love is disgusting. He knew this now. Look at what it made him do. Look at how low he had come. And look at Molly Hooper, crying over him. Love was a disgusting thing.

Sherlock mentally promised himself that enough was enough. He would stop loving, no it wasn't love. He would stop whatever he was feeling towards the woman this instant. But he didn’t how difficult it would be.

 


	2. Episode 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who read my story and a special thanks to the person who left a kudos. This means a lot to me and you guys reading and appreciating my story feels too special and too nice. Thank you very very much. 
> 
> This chapter has a little bit of mature content, a teaser for all that is to come.

‘Sherlock, I am asking you again. Why were you in her bedroom? Fucking bedroom? And need I say that you were high?’, John was yelling again. A pulse was throbbing in his neck, Sherlock was concerned that if John got any more angry it might burst. To pacify him a little, for his own safety, Sherlock thought he should start speaking.

‘I don’t know. I wanted to forget, so I smoked. Only a little. I honestly don’t remember how and when I got here.’ This ought to pacify him. Confessing he wanted to forget, would keep them busy for a while.  
Because he did remember why he was here. Very explicitly. But to confess would be his greatest embarrassment. And anyone who knew Sherlock Holmes knew he never liked to be embarrassed. So, he kept his mouth shut and continued pacifying the situation.

‘I honestly don’t know what you were thinking. What if someone was here? What if someone Russian or Chinese gangster would have robbed you? We all know the connections Adler had to the underworld. This was reckless and dangerous. We didn’t even know where you were for the better part of the night.’ Mary said concerned.

Now, even Sherlock could not remember where he was and what had he done before making love to the woman’s bed. This was turning out to be a case in itself. Sherlock looked around. The living room was as clean as she had left it that night. Suddenly an image of her flashed in Sherlock’s mind. She was wearing his bathrobe, her hair wet and wavy rested on her shoulders. She was smiling down at him.

‘Sherlock? Sherlock? Stop musing.’ John brought him back to present.

This needs to stop. I can not keep thinking of her. She is gone, her chapter must end here. Sherlock thought to himself.

Oh! John was saying something to him. ‘I asked, why were you in her bedroom?’

‘And I already told you it must be a case. At this point, all this talk about last night is becoming redundant. You are just embarrassing yourselves now, repeatedly talking about it.’

‘Is it so? Then why don’t you explain where were you last night and what “case” you keep referring to?’ John asked again.

‘It was ah...it was about the lady who had her babies stolen, and then they turned up at her gate the very next day but somehow they were different.’

‘So, you mean to say that Irene Adler is now trafficking babies? Is that so? Mary inquired.

‘You never know what that woman was doing. She had her hands in a lot of shit. We can not really rule out the possibilities.’ Sherlock replied very nonchalantly. Pretending it was not all made up and hoping the audience would buy it.

‘Again, let me get this straight. The fact that you were lying on her bed, quoting Pablo Neruda, is not because you are in love with her but because you happen to investigate a case where you happen to think of her as a suspect?’

‘Look, John, I do not know who this Pablo Neruda is that you speak of but yes, of course, I was investigating a case.’

‘Alright, what about the texts then?’ chipped in Molly. Who had stopped crying and now looked the most terrifying of them all.

Ah! Molly Hooper. Pertaining to the little details. What a tiresome morning! Sherlock thought.

‘Texts? What texts?’ Sherlock tried to pull a classic Sherlock move.  
‘Now, do you want us to read the rest of them?’, threatened Mary.

Sherlock always admired Mary and her quick wit but at this precise time, if someone asked him what he wanted, his answer would be a dumb Mary. Because John, for all his doctor skills, was not as gifted when it came to wit and detective skills.

‘Thank you, Mary!’ Sherlock replied with his most sarcastic smile yet. ‘The texts are nothing, an experiment you see. For if one day I really mess up, I wanted to prepare you people and of course, see how you would react. You guys did a splendid job, congratulations. Let’s leave. I am done here.’ And Sherlock left to retrieve his phone and leave this house for good.

‘Can you believe this guy?’ John was in a strange space between shocked and angry. Mary was just amused by Sherlock’s quick refusal and Molly, well Molly smelled something fishy.

Therefore, it was on this day that Mary Watson and Molly Hooper decided that they would uncover the truth of Sherlock’s feelings and get Sherlock to confess. But both were oblivious to each other's plan or the outcome would have been much more fun.

That night Sherlock had a strange dream. Now, Sherlock had had strange dreams nearly all his life, especially since the woman left but this dream was different because he had never before touched the woman in any of his dreams. He had screamed at her, cried for her, and even once saw her naked but usually, the dreams ended with him waking up with a weird erection or John’s shouts. This time it was all very different. Maybe it was the aftermath of Sherlock’s embarrassing lovemaking to the woman’s bed, but whatever it was Sherlock was left shocked. And that ladies and gentlemen was something because the great Sherlock Holmes is never shocked, except for that one time, but that story is for later. For now, let’s get back to the weird dream.

As the narrator of this dream, I must admit it is not for children. So, please proceed on your own risk. It all starts in the middle, as all weird dreams do. Sherlock sitting in a room full of bright red roses. As he looks up, he sees a mirror right in front and he notices he is naked. Beside him lies a woman, Sherlock’s heart starts beating until he realizes the naked woman lying beside him is not the woman, but she is familiar. Then comes a startling recollection of the bright red hair, the woman is Molly Hooper.

Suddenly, the door slams open and the woman, the woman woman, comes barging in. She is dressed in his bathrobe, hair all wet and wavy but she is angry. ‘How dare you?’ she says. Too calmy for someone who is so angry. Sherlock is very scared. For what, he does not understand.

‘I did not know, it was not you.’ Sherlock replies. In a voice which is too strange and not his.

‘You didn’t know? You slept with someone and you don’t know who that was?’ comes a reply in a voice which sounds like his but wait, isn’t it the woman saying this.  
No, wait, the room starts spinning, and Sherlock’s sees the woman in the bed which he knew to be Molly is actually the woman, Irene Adler and the man sitting beside her is not him but rather some stranger. And now he realizes, it is him who has barged into the room and it is Alder who has slept with someone else. Rage fills Sherlock like he has never experienced before. He walks towards the bed, she is smiling, Sherlock snatches her out of bed and kisses her. So hard, he has never kissed anyone like that before.

Before he knows, she is pulling him to the bed. In his head, he is thinking he should be mad at her but continues to kiss her and being pulled to the bed. And then her hand reaches his erection and Sherlock wakes up with a shock.

For a second, he doesn’t realize where he is. He half hopes to fall back to sleep and finish the dream and the other half of him hopes never to sleep ever in his life. He looks down at the sheets and sees he has dirtied them. Which is also a first for Sherlock Holmes.

Standing up from the bed, there is only one thought in his head, that he needs to stop obsessing over her or actually, two thoughts. The other one being he needs to find her and fuck her hard.


	3. Episode 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So, I have planned a little something for the Johnlock shippers. The story will follow a minor Johnlock plot, but it still is a major Adlock shipping. I will definitely write a different Johnlock story when I am done with this one. Also, major update, Mycroft has someone in his life. I know, this story is not at all canon, which you guys already know, but still, it feels so good to write something I have wished for but the BBC never delivered.  
> Anyway, I am rambling on and on. Please enjoy the story. 
> 
> And thank you for reading and hopefully, enjoying it.

The next morning Sherlock decided to forget about his dream and his determination of finding the woman and having sex. Not because sex alarmed him, not at all. But because love was chemical defect always found on the losing side. And Sherlock Holmes was never on the losing side, according to him at least. So, he carried on with the usual, reading the paper, being giddy reading about deaths and abductions, you know all the happy stuff.

Similarly, miles apart in a different country the woman was also carrying about her usual morning routine. Sexting a few high officials, dominating the president in one of her rooms and whipping his wife in the next room, you know the casual things. When her assistant knocked and entered her room.

‘He broke in last night’, said her assistant.  
Now, the woman knew exactly who ‘he’ was in this situation. To say she was not happy would be a lie. Because it is not every day that you beat the Sherlock Holmes, and leave him heartbroken and then hear about his lovemaking to your bed. If I am being really honest, the woman felt like it was Christmas.

‘Really?’ But that does not mean she would let everyone see how giddy she was. Inside, she felt like laughing but from outside you would feel that she was just hearing a news. She had the same expression as when her assistant, Radha, told her about the president begging her to fuck him. The expression where she showed that she felt accomplished but not happy.  
Little did anyone know, that every time Irene Adler saw a man begging her to take him she imagined Sherlock Holmes in his place. That every time she whipped someone, she imagined what it would feel like to whip him and his bloody beautiful cheekbones and that delicious bottom.  
That every time she actually fucked someone, which might be shocking to know was very very rare, she imagined what it would feel like to have him under her, moaning her name and withering in pleasure. Oh! What she would do to him, only if he surrenders.

And that was why she had left him because she felt so satisfied while bringing him down. And she knew she would only feel really accomplished the day, Sherlock Holmes would beg her to have him. This was a game, a power play and she would win it, even if it meant not to see and touch him for the rest of her fucking life. She would win this time.

‘Don’t worry about him, let’s see how our president is doing.’ Irene smirked and went to check on the whinny stupid man. It was going to be a long day.

 

Back in 21st Baker Street, John Watson was still mad but more confused than ever. The videos Sherlock had sent him were a clear indication of his love for the woman which was twisted as fuck. I mean, to think that he, a virgin or a... god only knows what he is really, is in love with that woman, who is a walking sex goddess, is odd, to say the least.

‘I am going to pick Mary. I will be late.’ John said to Sherlock who was lying on the sofa and was oddly very quiet today.

‘Give Mycroft my greetings’, replied the odd man.  
‘I am not meeting Mycroft’ stammered John. Fuck him for being too genius.

‘Stop lying John, especially when you are too poor at it. You are wearing your dad pants and shoes. Your expression is the same when you come here to complain about Mary’s obsession with pasta. So, of course, you are meeting Mycroft. So, do give him my greetings.’

‘Okay.’ John sighed and left.

Later with Mycroft, yes, of course, he was meeting him. Our John is soft, ladies and gentlemen, he cares and he acts. Let’s just understand that. John told him about the lovemaking with the bed, the drugs, and also the messages.

‘Should we send him to therapy?’ he asked Mycroft concerned.

‘John, who do you think will give therapy to whom?’ Mycroft asked with his sweet and sarcastic smile.

‘So, what? How are we going to proceed? What are we going to do? This time it is more serious Mycroft, I am telling you.’

‘I think we need to contact the person responsible.’

‘Are you sure that is a good idea? Things could get explosive.’ John was scared now. Last time Sherlock and Irene Adler were in the same room, they both had almost gotten the other person killed. This time the almost would turn into a certainty.

‘That is the only way to get him to stop. A healthy competition, you see.’

‘Why do I feel that you are enjoying this?’ Was John missing something here? Or were the Holmes brothers real sadists?

‘Of course, I am enjoying this. Sherlock will lose his virginity after all.’ Mycroft replied almost with a real smile.

‘Seriously? That is your take away from all of this?’ Mycroft was even weirder than he thought. God only knew how inspector Lestrade lived with him.

Yes, my dear listeners, Mycroft Holmes had, after years of faking indifference, finally proposed to Inspector Greg Lestrade. Well, if you call giving a constant booty call to the same person for 6 months until he finally gets tired and moves in with you and you feel accomplished, as a proposal then yes, Mycroft Holmes did propose.

‘How’s Greg?’ John casually asked.

‘Not dead or insane. Thank you!’ Mycroft was truly Sherlock’s brother, John thought. ‘So, when will you contact her?’

‘I will see what I can do. Now, if you excuse me, I have a date planned with my boyfriend.’ Mycroft said with a shudder.  
Well, some things never change.

 

John Watson was not a man who would easily get jealous. I mean, he had had his fair share of dating and one night stands in his prime time. Not that his prime time was over, but after being married for a year and living with Sherlock for almost 4 years, John Watson has come down to routine and peace. Well, as much peace as you can get when your best friend is a detective and wife an ex-assassin.

 

But this time John Watson was a little jealous. Okay, who am I kidding? John Watson was very jealous. You see, John had feelings for Sherlock, that was the reason he spent 3 years living with the man, and also because he was a good friend but really, having feelings help. Otherwise, how do you tolerate that much drama and you know, craziness. And life was going okay because even he knew having a serious love relation with Sherlock was not a possibility. I mean, he didn't even know whether Sherlock reciprocates his feelings.  

 

John had tried to figure Sherlock’s feelings out many times but never succeeded. He constantly brought his ‘girlfriends’ home, to see if Sherlock would get jealous. Once, he even tried talking about his sex life with Sherlock, which was a disaster, to say the least. But all this with no success.

Then came Irene Adler, the infamous dominatrix. First, John was thrilled to look at her. She is a beautiful woman, John can’t lie. And to think she is especially talented in the art of sex, well that just makes everything better, doesn’t it? But then it turned out that Sherlock Holmes was showing interest in her. This fucked up John.

 

He was sexually attracted to both of them, who would not be? But to think Sherlock would be interested in her and him, that cut deep. So, when she faked her death and he saw Sherlock broken, he had had enough. He remembered that Christmas so vividly. For, embarrassing memories are rarely forgotten.

 

That Christmas day listener was also the embarrassing memory for Sherlock but his story we’ll hear some other day. Let’s get back to John’s memory, shall we?

 

‘Sherlock, are you okay?’ John asked as Sherlock was sitting on the sofa, writing sad music, which was all he was doing these days.

 

‘Now, now John. why don’t you give Sherlock a kiss?’ said Mrs Hudson. Did I forget to mention? Mrs Hudson was a strong advocate for Sherlock’s love life and she liked the idea of John and Sherlock together, and so, she never missed a chance to bring that up.  ‘It will help him forget about that evil witch.’ also, she hated Irene Adler.

 

‘Thank you, Mrs Hudson. Please leave.’ Chipped in Sherlock in his sarcastic voice.

‘Seriously Sherlock, how are you doing?’ John tried again when Mrs Hudson left mumbling about how she only wants him to have sex.

 

‘I am fine John.' And that was an end to that conversation.

 

That night when John came home, breaking up with his then-girlfriend, he too was frustrated and heartbroken. Entering the apartment, he saw  Sherlock preparing to play his melancholy tunes on his violin, and John burst.

 

‘You know it would be way better if you just said how you felt, rather than playing that sad tune all day.’ Said John bitterly.

 

Sherlock made no reply and started playing his tune, which he later named Irene’s Melody.  

 

‘Oh! Now, you are silent. The Sherlock Holmes with no comeback, I thought only the woman was reserved for that special treatment.’ John was heaving with rage.

 

‘If you are upset about the break-up John, she was not suited for you.’ Sherlock simply said. Like it was the most natural thing to say at this moment.

 

‘Oh, what do you know of that? Do you even know what a breakup is? You never loved anyone in your life. Fuck!... You don’t even appreciate people in your life. You don’t even appreciate me.’ John yelled and then suddenly stopped. Realizing too late what he had just said. Before he could say anything, Sherlock replied, ‘I appreciate you, John. You are my best friend.’

 

‘I..I..’ John couldn’t complete his sentence. He took a deep breath. Sherlock was standing near the window, staring at John. There was an immense sadness in his demeanour. John couldn’t take it anymore. He walked with quick strides, his eyes never leaving Sherlock’s. When he reached him, they both stared into each other’s eyes. And then John closed the distance and kissed Sherlock. The moment his lips touched Sherlock’s, he knew no matter what happened to him he would always love him.  Then his hand travelled around Sherlock’s neck to bring him closer to deepen the kiss.

 

It lasted for a minute, but for John, it felt like a lifetime.  After the parting their lips, John was silent but then Sherlock spoke up, ‘You are the first person to kiss me.’ Again, like it was the most natural thing to say at this moment. And they both burst out laughing and John said, ‘Well, good because I am a pretty good kisser.’

 

And that night while sleeping, John knew in the depths of his heart that he could never leave Sherlock, never.


End file.
